News of yore, dated 14th June, Eighteen Hundred and Ninety-Five

Woman trapped in a man on a horse

Fargo, ND—Local cowboy Theddy Crumpsmith longs to be free, the Observer has learned. Crumpsmith is suffering from a disorder not well known to mankind; one for which mankind currently has no solution. You see, Crumpsmith believes in his heart of hearts that he is a woman. He is a woman trapped in a dusty, hairy, smellin-all-kinds-of-awful man’s body.

Theddy is in pain. He truly yearns for a way out. It is clear he wishes the town doctor would clamp those rusty forceps around his ol’ gopher and somehow, by some magical pluck and tuck, transform it into female genitalia.

“If’n I had me a way, I’d free myself from this penis-havin’ prison,” says Theddy. “But there ain’t no way to do that. I’ll forever be stuck here wearin’ women’s britches underneath these here chaps. Can’t tell nobody I’m really a woman for fear of gettin’ laughed at and run outta town.”

Town doctor Emblett Durgiss sympathizes with Theddy. “Every so often, a cowpoke will approach me with some strange request. He’ll say ‘Doc can ya help me, I’m a woman’ or ‘Doc, I don’t want my peener anymore’ and I can only throw up my hands and say sorry, I ain’t a got-dayum miracle-worker. Poor fellers.”

Theddy has lived with this for so long, he’s even considered self-mutilation. “Starin’ off into the prairie sunset at twilight makes a guy wonder: Could I do it? Could I carve up this here weasel and nards in just such a way that I’d turn hussy? Hell, I dunno.”

It seems that this bizarre affliction affects these men who are what they simply are not. These are men of a feminine essence.